In the shadowed fringes of Earth 02, where the veil between the mortal realm and the ethereal thinned like mist at dawn, there lurked a yokai named Susamaru. Her form was a terrifying marvel: a lithe, ethereal figure with skin like polished obsidian, crowned by a cascade of long, fiery orange hair that flowed like molten va down her back. But it was her six arms that marked her as something beyond nightmare or legend—each limb sinewy and powerful, ending in cwed fingers that could rend stone or cradle forgotten relics with equal ease. Susamaru had not always been this way; whispers among the elder spirits cimed she was once a humble shrine maiden, twisted by the collective apathy of humanity into a being that fed on the very essence of neglect. She haunted abandoned shrines, those crumbling bastions of faith long forsaken by society. There, she devoured not flesh, but the intangible void—the measure of how deeply humanity had forgotten their gods, any gods, from the ancient titans of thunder to the minor spirits of hearth and harvest.

  Her presence was a silent accusation, a spectral reminder that divinity withered without worship. Temples overgrown with ivy, altars dusted with the ashes of unlit incense—these were her banquet halls. As societies advanced, building gleaming cities of steel and light, they left their deities to fade into obscurity. Susamaru grew stronger with each forgotten prayer, her six arms multiplying her reach, allowing her to pluck the essence of oblivion from the air like ripe fruit.

  One fateful twilight, as Susamaru prowled the ruins of a derelict shrine on the outskirts of a forgotten battlefield, a deity stirred from its slumber. This god, known as Hikarion, was a minor patron of renewal, his shrine erected a mere fifty years prior—a blink in the eyes of immortals. Yet, even in that short span, the new generations had turned away, seduced by the glow of screens and the hum of machines. No offerings came; no chants echoed. Hikarion, his form a shimmering apparition of golden light dimmed to a feeble flicker, shed out in desperation. "Begone, devourer of echoes!" he roared, his ethereal bde slicing through the air toward Susamaru.

  The yokai dodged with unnatural grace, her orange hair whipping like fmes, but the strike grazed her shoulder. Green blood—viscous and glowing with otherworldly energy—spilled onto the cracked stone altar. Where it pooled, the liquid churned and coalesced, birthing a pulsating orb of emerald light. The orb hovered for a moment, then expanded, shaping itself into a human-like female form. She was slender and pale, with eyes like polished jade and an orb embedded in her chest, pulsing faintly like a second heart. This newborn entity, whom Susamaru would come to call Orbina, inherited a fragment of her progenitor's essence: a hunger for the forgotten, but twisted into something new—a seeker of divine remnants.

  Orbina wasted no time. Driven by an instinctive pull, she ventured into the scarred battlefields where gods had cshed in ancient wars, their rivalries fueled by the same human neglect that empowered Susamaru. She scavenged the ethereal corpses of defeated deities—faded husks of once-mighty beings, their forms scattered like broken idols across the pins. From these remnants, Orbina began forming ranks of servants. Some were reborn as scouts, weaponless wraiths who spied on shrines teetering on the brink of oblivion or those already abandoned. They whispered reports back to their mistress, mapping the decay of faith across the nd.

  Others, more aggressive, consumed the bones of the fallen gods, their forms morphing into slime-like humanoids. From this ingested essence, they extruded weapons: spears and bows of getinous slime, dense and unyielding as the divine bones they had devoured. These armaments shimmered with a sickly green hue, capable of piercing both flesh and spirit. Orbina's army grew, a legion of the overlooked, bound by the shared power of forgetfulness.

  Susamaru, ever the warrior, engaged these new servants in brutal hand-to-hand combat, testing their mettle. Her six arms blurred in a deadly dance, cshing against the armed slime-humanoids in mock battles that echoed through the ruins. Through these trials, she forged one million orbs—each a seed like the one that birthed Orbina. These orbs swelled and transformed into slime-like humanoids, swelling her forces into an unstoppable tide. As their numbers multiplied, Susamaru began collecting the scattered threads of faith that lingered in the world. Not to revive the old gods, but to hoard it, empowering her new servants. She shared her core power—the essence of forgetting—with them, infusing their slime weapons until the spears and arrows became ten times stronger, capable of shattering divine barriers or felling lesser spirits in a single strike.

  Empowered thus, Orbina—the newly born yokai—proved her worth in the escating conflict. When Hikarion, sensing the growing threat, rallied a desperate assault, Orbina stood firm. Summoning katanas from the void in all six of her arms—bdes forged from condensed oblivion, sharp as regret—she held her own against the god's onsught. The csh was cataclysmic: green blood sprayed anew, divine light fractured, and the air hummed with the wails of forgotten echoes. Hikarion, already weakened by decades of neglect, could not prevail. His shrine, though built only fifty years ago on Earth 02, had failed to capture the hearts of the youth, leaving him a shadow of his potential.

  In the end, the deity bowed to inevitability. With a weary sigh that rustled the overgrown vines, Hikarion signed a pact of peace, etched into a stone tablet with his fading essence. "I am but one of many," he murmured, "forgotten before my time. Take your dominion, yokai, but know that oblivion cims us all."

  Susamaru and Orbina withdrew, their army slithering back into the shadows of abandoned shrines. Yet, the victory was bittersweet; for in empowering her servants, Susamaru had sown the seeds of a new era—one where the forgotten rose not to recim glory, but to accelerate the fall of the divine. And as society marched onward, blind to the spirits it left behind, the yokai's hunger only grew.

  Within Susamaru's true domain—a parallel world that mirrored Earth but teemed with ethereal creatures roaming its wild expanses—the fruits of her conquests took on new life. These creatures, looted from the shrines she had plundered, were slow and ponderous in their original forms. But as Susamaru reflected on her memories of the battle with Hikarion, a glowing circle appeared in her eye, a sigil of enhanced perception. Through this lens, she discovered that these Earth-like beings, now reformed from orbs of her own creation, moved six times faster and with far greater agility than in the realm where she had fought. Combined with the worship they offered her and the essence drawn from forgotten shrines, her power surged. What once granted her an additional 30,000 miles per second per shrine devoured now doubled to 60,000 miles per second, a velocity born from the world she had forged after her divine csh.

  With twenty million slimes under her command, these viscous humanoids sought out male humans to expand their ranks. After an encounter with a male, two billion more slimes would emerge, each showcasing a 50% match to the essence of love in that world, binding them to the pne with unbreakable ties.

  One day, in the mortal realm, a hapless soul was simping for a stranger, lost in unrequited longing. Susamaru appeared above the person, her obsidian form materializing like a storm cloud. She delved into their memories with a mere gnce, unraveling the threads of their desires and despairs. Then, with a whisper of decay, she began decomposing the person in a single day, reducing flesh to dust until only a gray skeleton remained, encased within a newly formed slime. This abomination began to roam the pne she had entered, a grotesque fusion of bone and ooze.

  After this new skeleton died—its fragile form crumbling under the weight of its unnatural existence—ten more appeared the next day, rising from the remnants like weeds in forsaken soil. Susamaru's influence spread, a creeping oblivion that turned even the pangs of human emotion into fuel for her ever-growing legion.